


Control

by Rooscha



Series: Control Issues [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Prime, Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)
Genre: Blackmail, Blow Jobs, Control, Control Issues, Dom/sub, First Time Blow Jobs, Forced Orgasm, Intense, Light BDSM, Loss of Control, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Orgasm, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 17:36:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17064131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rooscha/pseuds/Rooscha
Summary: An older Starscream endeavors to teach a young Megatron a thing or two about giving pleasure rather than just receiving - but as usual, his plans backfire.Written for Spoon888 with permission. 9k words of pure Megastar porn.





	Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Spoon888](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoon888/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sold By Fate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16179965) by [Spoon888](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoon888/pseuds/Spoon888). 



> When Spoon888 wrote 'Sold by Fate,' I was inspired to write the following nine thousand words of straight up sex and debauchery. I hope you all enjoy, and remember that things are not as they seem with either of these two mechs. I will be playing with these two and this dynamic again, if you all are amenable to the idea.

He had to remember his patience. Most mecha did not think he had any, but they were wrong. He had patience, but only used it sparingly. Afterall, most of the mechs around him were paid handsomely to do their jobs. They were skilled and experienced, and he held them to a higher standard. 

But he was more than willing to show his patience tonight.

The fight below was progressing slowly, both mecha reasonably well matched. His gladiator, Megatron, was using a mace and had a solid shield. He used both weapons offensively and defensively, keeping his opponent guessing every step of the way. 

To be honest, only half his attention was on the match. He was in a private box with several other high-profile Vosian nobles, and they were having a different kind of gladiatorial match. Calculated slights and threats were flying through the air, thrusters warming and ailerons twitching as the jibes met their marks. 

He wasn’t playing, instead choosing to allow Thundercracker to deflect and respond. He was tracking the comments, of course, but between the match and his rapidly heating spike, it was becoming more and more difficult to concentrate on anything other than the grey mech far below. 

Megatron had contacted him through a network of mecha looking for change to the Cybertron they knew. Starscream was partially financing this mech’s bid for a new Cybertron. It was a worthy endeavor to be sure, and the benefits weren’t bad either. 

The grey gladiator was interested in him, even Skywarp saw the raw attraction between them. And he had commented on it. Loudly. Starscream had nearly punted him out the nearest window. A comment like that outside of their tower might have made Megatron shy away. 

He was strong and proud but seemed to be skittish when it came to their blossoming relationship. It was endearing to watch the larger but much younger mech go from proud and straight backed to a shy melting puddle of struts as soon as Starscream’s claws traced his faceplates. Megatron had utterly no idea how to be on the receiving end of such affection. 

He knew how to be in control of interface, that much was certain. Often, before a match, the gladiators would grab up the wandering pleasurebots and frag them in full view of the crowd. Starscream was always early to matches now, the first one in the booth so that he could watch Megatron railing some little mech or femme. 

Megatron seemed to have no issues whatsoever when it came to being the top in an interface. He wasn’t against his partner touching him – Star had seen the pleasurebots grab his shoulders, trace their glossa across his broad touch. So, it wasn’t a phobia of being touched.

After watching the other mech’s interfacing habits – match after match, Starscream had come to a simple conclusion. Megatron was a control freak. 

Once he had figured out the mech’s issue, it was as if every piece of the puzzle suddenly clicked into place. Since Megatron was not in control of their relationship, he was deeply uncomfortable. When Starscream touched him, he was not sure what was going to happen, and it made him uneasy. Once he had come to this conclusion, Star immediately began to plot and plan. 

As the elder of the pair, Starscream knew that control was an illusion, something that was a weakness as much as it was a strength. That was a lesson for later, something that would be taught to his young companion in due time. For the moment, Starscream was much more concerned with getting his hot spike into Megatron’s orifices. And that meant making Megatron comfortable with him and getting him used to not being in control.

Easier said than done, which was why Starscream had opted to lean on his patience and formulate a plan. Tonight, the plan would finally begin to come together. Megatron had fucked a small femme bot before his match and would be calm and mostly satiated after his victory. Oh, and what a sight he had been. 

The femme was easy on the optics, with a narrow waist and large chassis. But she had quickly faded into the background as Starscream focused on his gladiator’s hips. Primus, the mech knew how to fuck, and fuck well. Little time was spared to prep the pleasurebot, but that didn’t bother Starscream in the slightest. The little femme was hot and ready – that was part of her function. And patience in the berth would come in time. 

What Megatron lacked in foreplay was quickly overcome by the way he wielded his spike. Pity Starscream couldn’t really make out the length or girth from his place in the VIP box all the way at the top of the arena. Judging from the femme’s face as Megatron had eased his way into her valve, he was not lacking in either area. The way her optics had flared, and her the way her hips had wiggled away from his hips was all he needed. Megatron’s reaction had also been telling. Instead of being frustrated with the shareware, he had steadied her with a large hand on her waist and waited for a sparkpulse. Starscream was impressed. Most mecha would have snarled and buried themselves into her, regardless of her feelings. Despite his lack of foreplay experience, the mech was sensitive to his partners and their needs. 

When she had finally relaxed into his grip, Megatron had stayed seated in her valve for a long moment. His helm tilted back, mouth dropping open and his vents opening as wide as they would go. Instead of starting a punishing pace, as his opponent was doing next to him, Megatron ground his array into her own. Her limbs had all shivered, he must have found her anterior node in his grinding. After a few moments of teasing both of them, his hips began pumping. 

It had taken all of Starscream’s control to not pop his panel and self-service. The booth was beginning to fill up with his contemporaries, mecha who were all entwined with his social and fiscal life. He had to play this show off, pretend like he was unaffected by the mecha below. Thank Primus for Thundercracker, who had taken to distracting them all with his smooth talk, leaving Starscream to enjoy the show.

Megatron’s hips pumped in and out of his pleasurebot, his rhythm steady and pleasing. The femme’s optics were dim – probably the only real pleasure she would receive from a client tonight. Primus, he was even aroused by the mech’s hands, big and strong as they were. One was braced against the wall, anchoring him as he thrust and snarled, holding back his pleasure. The other was…busy…for lack of better word. He was a tactile mech by nature, Starscream had noted as he had watched many sessions just like this one. Megatron would always start fucking a mecha with his hands to himself, usually braced on the wall. But at some point, one hand would always drop to his partner’s frame, petting and playing as he saw fit. 

The grey metal was mostly matte, making it easy for Starscream to see them, even from his high vantage point. Megatron would touch them everywhere. Shoulders, back, chassis, waist. It was all open to him, and most of his partners were wild for his touch, arching and mouths open. After a little petting and circling, Megatron would lick his fingers and start in on their anterior nodes. 

And every time Starscream would become weak at the knees. Seeing his glossa flick out to slick his fingers was more seductive than his hips slamming into the femme. The femme seemed to agree – after a few seconds of being tormented by his hand on her node, she went stiff and her optics flared brightly. She shivered for only a moment before overloading. Primus, Starscream wished he could see Megatron’s reaction, but his face was buried in her neck. He was hunched over, back arching so that he was humping the femme with his entire body now. He was right on the edge of overload – Star could tell. 

As the femme shook and shivered with the last of her overload, and her optics dimmed back to their normal coloration, she tilted her helm back with a look of pure determination. Seconds later, Megatron’s hips shuddered, rhythm disturbed. He ground against her, refusing to remove his spike from her valve by even an inch. The femme continued whatever she was doing with her valve, and Megatron broke. 

His helm threw back, and a faint roar could be heard even from where Starscream was sitting. His hips pulled back and snapped forward, driving her into the wall over and over. Her helm was hitting the metal wall with each push and pull, but she didn’t seem to mind. All she could do was to cling to Megatron’s broad shoulders as he took her with everything he had, locked in a transfluid driven trance. Once empty, Megatron slumped against the femme and the wall, his knees locked to keep them both upright. 

The femme snuggled in close, nuzzling the side of his helm and whispering to him. Megatron listened, allowing the femme to touch him so closely, so intimately. After a few moments, he nodded and pulled out of the warm valve. The femme already had a cloth waiting and cleaned his spike quickly and gently. She was practiced, and it took only a few astroseconds. Megatron nodded to her and stretched. He nodded to his handler, and the match commenced quickly. 

Most of the gladiators liked to fuck a mech or femme right there at the mouth of the arena, before their matches. It served three purposes. One, it gave them a much-needed rush of exhilaration before the match, and the scientist in him noted that it probably also dilated energon and coolant lines as well. The second was that it allowed them to get the crowd riled up. Gladiators were arousing in many ways. Some craved their power, others craved their frames or even their strategic processors. Starscream enjoyed all three about Megatron. Third, it was a small moment of pleasure freely given to them. Most gladiators lived short and sad lives, and they were greedy for whatever pleasures they could experience. Starscream knew that most of them were hooked on some drug or another. He had already made Megatron take two different drug tests, both had come back clean. Still, he should probably order another. Still, regardless of the reasons, the show was hot as pit and was not to be missed. The stands were almost always full long before the match, and some came just to watch their favorite fighter cum as well. 

Besides getting him hot and bothered, Starscream learned much about the mecha from these sessions. Megatron was dominant but not carless. He enjoyed taking control, but also cared for those he coupled with. How much of that was ingrained and how much was taught, Star wasn’t certain. He also learned that the younger mech was good with his spike and his hands. Experienced, but not calloused. He also, somewhat surprisingly, was not opposed to casual intimacy. That had surprised Starscream the most, considering how often Megatron had pulled away from his claws. 

Starscream startled when a buzzer sounded through the entire arena, the crowd screaming back in response. Megatron had one his match, as expected. The crowd was still more than enthused, screaming for him and chanting his name. The nameless and faceless mecha were waved to, Megatron standing tall and unharmed in the arena. Starscream waited as Megatron turned in a slow circle, taking in his adoring crowd. 

When Megatron’s gaze met his own, Starscream merely nodded to the much younger mech. It was a job well done, but they both knew that he wasn’t overly challenged by his opponent this night. He did not deserve a smile, but he did deserve a nod. Megatron’s optics brightened a touch, and he nodded back. 

Thundercracker, seated next to him, placed a hand on Starscream’s knee. Casual touches were not his favorite, but it was so incredibly loud in the arena that it was an acceptable way for Thundercracker to get his attention without using their hackable communication lines. Thunder’s faceplate was warm, a slight smile crinkling the edges of his optics. He gave Starscream a nod as well, before looking pointedly to Skywarp and tossing his helm a little. The message was clear enough; Thundercracker was going to take Skywarp home. Probably to fuck. Sometimes he envied their easy relationship, wanting a warm berth and a valve or spike ready for him all the time. Still, he pushed aside his petty jealousy and nodded back to his trinemate, giving his approval and permission in one. 

The vultures in the booth were all talking amongst each other, content to leave him alone for the moment. That was just fine with Starscream, he wanted to finish the glass of highgrade in his hand before he met Megatron. He knew that the younger mech wanted to speak to him about more financing, and possibly about his contacts in the weapons industry. His revolution was gaining speed more quickly than they had imagined, and things with the establishment were heating up. Megatron had plans of training a strike team, a group of trusted mecha to help guard some of the weaker mecha in Kaon. Starscream had his doubts about the weapons and the strike team. Typical young mech, rushing into things. 

Besides, Starscream had slightly different plans for tonight. It was time for them to have a physical relationship. It was getting old, just talking to Megatron about this revolution. Money, guns and violence were the only topics of conversation behind closed doors. Frankly, he wasn’t getting anything out of this alliance, and that needed to change. Or he would take his money and his contacts with him. Revolutions were all fine and good, but they were costly, and he was taking a gamble on this young mech. It was time to get a little something back for his efforts. Hopefully Megatron would be amenable without too much fuss. Starscream did not want to have to resort to such distasteful things like blackmail. 

His compatriots filed out after a fashion, most of them would find their way back to Vos on a fast and unmarked shuttle. They were all still committed to keeping a low profile. It was bad enough that they were watching gladiatorial matches, but even worse – they could be seen in the presence of a rebel rouser. Starscream sipped his highgrade and smiled, they had no idea that the second the rebellion was ready, every mech in this booth save his trine mates were to be assassinated. They were standing between him and rule of Vos. Pity, some of them were fun in the berth. 

When the glass was finally empty, Starscream placed it delicately on the arm of his plush chair. Megatron should have had enough time to shower and make himself presentable by now. Starscream was adventurous, sure, but mech fluid had always disgusted him. He did not want to sully his pleasure. Megatron, he was pleased to find out, was a fastidiously clean mech. His quarters were large and clean, his berth always made. It was a welcome respite from the general grime of Kaon. 

He stood, stretching his arms and wings. The match had not taken long, but his wings cramped easily. Holding his wings still and his field controlled for even just the few breems of the match had made him stiff. He took the time to limber up, letting joint lubricant flow once more. He may have been older than Megatron, but there was no reason to let his joints creak and crack like an old mech. Weakness was unbecoming, and he needed to stay strong against this young mech.

An arena guard was at the door, as per usual - a retired gladiator. They knew the ins and outs of the arena, including emergency exits, and were on hand for the VIPs. Starscream nodded at his, a large femme with a scar that ran the length of her faceplate, and she immediately set out towards Megatron’s quarters. The walk was not long, both had long legs, and soon enough he was waiting outside of the nondescript door. Time to unleash his master plan. 

He knocked lightly, claws just grazing the door’s metal before retreating back to rest behind his back. He pulled himself straighter, knowing that he was smaller and weaker than the mech within, but completely unwilling to show any weakness to his mech. The door slid open quickly, Megatron had been waiting. 

“Starscream, thank you for coming to discuss…matters.” Megatron greeted him, one arm gesturing him into the sparse room. It held a desk with an outdated console and a berth. There was no chair at the desk, something that had bothered him immensely the first few times he had visited. Then he had realized that the desk was too low anyways, and Megatron had to sit with his aft flat on the floor to even use the console. Pity, Starscream would have sent him a chair.

“Of course, and congratulations on yet another victory,” Starscream all but purred as he walked into the room, thrusters clicking on the cold smooth floor. “Your performance was perfection.” 

“You barely watched my second performance, Starscream. I am told that you watched my first ‘performance’ much more closely.” Megatron stated, keying the door to slide shut. He turned to face Starscream, optics flicking along the length of his wings before sliding back to his faceplate. Starscream tried not smirk as he crossed the room to sit on the berth. Insolently, he leaned against the wall and propped one leg up, resting his wrist upon it. His other leg was relaxed across the length of the berth, thruster just hanging off the edge. 

“I did enjoy the first more than the second, but both of them were appreciated for different reasons.” He responded, flicking one deadly claw against his knee. Megatron smirked a little at his retort, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. The room had no other place to sit, so Megatron leaned on the wall across from his berth. Starscream relaxed, allowing his wings to fall just a touch and take some of the pressure off their joints. This was going to be…delicate.

“I asked you here because you’ve been dodging my comms lately. I need weapons, untraceable ones. And ammunition, heat sinks,” Megatron began, taking in a large vent. “A select group and I have been working on our marksmanship, but there’s always more mecha who want to learn than there are available weapons. We’ve been averaging two to three weapons an orn, but it’s just not enough. They want to be able to protect themselves. We all know trouble is coming.” 

Starscream stared at him, not allowing a hint of emotion or thought to show on his faceplate. Megatron’s oratory skills had been improving, but not around him. Starscream needed to do some digging, see if he was only a good speaker when scripted or if he was just too nervous around his financier to compose himself. 

Starscream figured it was probably the latter, because Megatron was fidgeting. Oh, not a lot. But Starscream’s sharp optics did not miss the gentle tapping of his fingers against the wall, or the way his left pede kept shifting back and forth on the floor. It was just a few microns, but it was noticeable. Seekers were very attuned to motion. Much more than ground pounders. A few microns of movement could be the difference between life and death for his kind. 

“No.” 

Megatron stared at him, all motion ceasing. Starscream kept tapping his claw on his knee, slowly and rhythmically. This was obviously not the answer Megatron was hoping for. Time to see what the youngster’s retort would be. 

To Starscream’s surprise, Megatron was quiet for a few long moments. He was visibly gathering his thoughts, brow creased and a light frown appearing on his scarred face. This was a mech used to beating the scrap out of his problems, and now he was having to learn to fight with words as well. So, Starscream allowed him some time to arrange himself. See – he could be patient. 

“With due respect, sir. How am I supposed to lead a rebellion if my mecha have nothing to fight with? The Autobots are already taking note of us, one of my spies reported that a few of the pleasurebots were questioned naught but a few orn ago!” Megatron nearly spat, his optics flashing with irritation.

“Naught…Well look at who has been reading some of the datapads I sent along,” Starscream drawled, enjoying the light flush in his mech’s faceplate. Reading and embarrassed about it, obviously. “Listen to yourself mech and learn from the words you spout. If the Autobots are already suspicious, it’s time to lay low and back off for a while. No more rallies, no informal gatherings until things smooth over.” 

“But-” Megatron started to speak, abandoning his task of holding up the wall. His hands clenched into fists, and he took a step forward. There was still plenty of room between the berth and the young gladiator. Starscream stopped the gentle tapping on his knee, holding up the blade-like claw and letting the light glint off the sharp surface for a moment. Gladiator the young mech may be, but Starscream was no slouch in a fight. He had natural weapons no grounder could fathom. 

“No buts, youngling. You do not have the forces needed to protect yourselves from an Autobot raid, none the less any of your less…aggressive…followers. I am still working my channels in Vos to bring more mecha to our cause. You will need more than weapons to best them. You need an army. I am working diligently but quietly to source you everything you need. You think you just need bodies and weapons to win a war? Oh, what’s that? Surprise? This is going to escalate into a war, youngling. There’s a reason I have been sending you military texts. It’s not just theory. You will need Generals, Quartermasters, Drill Sergeants and Advisors. We need to focus on building infrastructure right now.”

Megatron’s mouth opened and shut with a click. His fists fell to his sides and then opened. His optics darkened as his optics fell on the stack of datapads on his desk. For a long moment, he stared at the literature, and Starscream did not allow his talon to fall. They simply waited for one or the other to make a move. 

“War? You do not believe that the Autobots will allow us to govern ourselves? Surely Kaon is not so dear to them.” Megatron’s red optics met Starscream’s own, his helm tilted down. Starscream’s wings fluttered just a little – he couldn’t help it. That look was so intense. He wanted to see it again, but in his berth. 

“Your naiveite is something I often shove to the back of my processor. I think I also forget that you have not had the means to travel around this planet. I hope to change that soon enough, if you can keep a low profile and not have a warrant out for your arrest,” Starscream resumed his light tapping, Megatron calmed himself very quickly. “…The Autobots have a good thing going, and they will not just let Kaon succeed – peacefully or otherwise. If Kaon leaves, Tarn will follow. If Tarn goes, Altihex will go. If Altihex goes, Vos will leave. Do you see? If they even hear a rumor of unrest, the enforcers will come down on you like a ton of shuttle. And not Kaonian enforcers. Iaconian special forces. You’ll be dead before you even get the chance to pull your blaster. Hence why I am working behind the scenes to get you an infrastructure. We will need spies. Good ones. Saboteurs, as well.”

Megatron remained stubbornly silent, watching Starscream intently. Pit, this was getting away from him. He didn’t want Megatron to think too much. Tonight was supposed to be about pleasure, teaching Megatron to trust him on a much deeper level. Though, given the mech’s intellect, this may help him more than hinder. 

“The spies will tell us when the Autobots are readying a strike. The sabatuers will then sabotage, take out as many mecha as they can. It won’t cripple them for long. There’s a slagload of enforcers and Autobots, but it will buy us time. And time buys us resources. But you have to keep your wits about you and play the long game. You want to be a better ruler than Sentinel? I know you would be better, but you think you’re the first one to try?” 

“Can you send me more datapads?” Megatron asked, walking towards the stack on his desk. His hands made quick work of sorting them into three piles. He worked silently but glanced at Starscream out of the corner of his optics. It was as close to an apology as he was going to get. 

“I will endeavor to do so. Some of the records are…delicate. I may have to bring them personally. Too dangerous to send with a messenger or through a service.” 

“I would appreciate the effort. I want to be the best, I know I can protect Cybertron. I just need to learn more. I need data on military structure, on how hundreds of thousands of mecha are given orders. Please send those first.” 

“I shall.” 

Silence echoed around the room for a long while, even Starscream’s light tapping had ceased. His wings were still. Megatron was still standing, staring at the stacks of datapads. He was thinking very hard. His large hands were flexing on the surface of the desk, his back bent low to rest his weight. Starscream had given him much to think about, maybe too much too fast. But still, it was very important that this little upstart did not tip their hand too quickly.

“Megatron,” Starscream spoke up, pulling himself upright on the berth. His legs both dropped off the edge and he stood, pulling himself as tall as he could without allowing his field to become aggressive. Megatron tore his attention away from the data pads in front of him and straightened slowly, his optics resetting twice. His cloudy thoughts cleared away and his full focus was on Starscream.

“Megatron, I am going to tell you what you can expect of tonight. I will not deviate from what I tell you now, and I expect that you will follow my instruction. You must learn to trust me, in and out of the berth. Do not look so surprised, you know we both desire one another. You may have spies in the arena to tell you when I watch you, but I have spies in every corner of this world. Including this arena. I have access to the searches you’ve been doing, the inquiries you’ve made of me. Do not play coy now, my dear one.”

“How do you want me?” Megatron asked, his shoulders slumping a little and his voice flat. Starscream nearly laughed. He had kicked his turbopuppy on accident, it seemed.

“Oh please, cut the ‘poor me’ routine. You’re the best gladiator Kaon has ever seen, and you want to conquer Cybertron. You will be no one’s toy, myself included. I merely wished to appease your…controlling nature. Make our initial union more comfortable for you.” Starscream crept closer to Megatron, his easy laugh filling the space between them. Megatron’s shoulders straightened back out and he seemed to pull himself out of his own helm. Starscream spoke the truth. He wanted a partner, someone to respect and pleasure him. Not a pleasurebot. He already had several of those. 

“You think I’m a control freak?” Megatron asked, his mouth set into a thin line, his arms flying up to cross his chest in a defensive motion. 

“I know you are. Why do you think I’ve been watching you fuck your whores night after night? Surely you didn’t think I adored your performance so much that I deemed it necessary to watch every time? My dear mech, you’re a one trick pony in the berth. You do the same thing with every pleasurebot, night after night. Not nearly entertaining enough to keep my attention long term. Only a control freak or an idiot would have such a formula for pleasuring his partners. You found what works for you and for them, and you stick to it. I have deeper and more varied tastes. I will teach you that giving up control will set you free in many ways. Especially in the berth.” Starscream sauntered forward, almost within touching range of the mech of his desires. He cocked his hip, placing both thrusters such that their high heels were visible, and spread his wings as wide and flat as they would go. 

“Ah yes, because giving up control is how mecha control entire armies. Yes, I recall reading that in one of these datapads you sent me.” The sarcasm flowed out of the larger mech’s mouth as easily as energon poured into a goblet. 

“Sarcasm is unbecoming, regardless of your age. Control is not what you seek. You seek respect. Do not ever confuse the two. You cannot control the actions of hundreds of thousands of soldiers. You cannot control me, none the less thousands of individuals. Military mecha follow orders because they respect their commanders and believe in their missions. When they do not, missions will fail, and you will see defections,” Starscream allowed a smile to flood his faceplate. Then he raised his hand and tapped Megatron on the nose, “You’ll read about it in the datapads I will bring you.”

Megatron went cross opticked as he watched Starscream’s finger on his nose, before he twitched his nose and resettled himself. His arms fell away from their defensive position across his chest, and he leaned back against his desk, long legs spread out in front of him. His hands moved to grip the edge of the desk, and Starscream could have looked at him all day. 

“So, allow me to start over. I will tell you exactly what we are going to do this night, so you know what to expect. M’kay?” Starscream asked, taking half a step away from Megatron before floating back to the berth, tracing one long finger over its surface. His sharp claw left a beautiful scratch, a little calling card, something for Megatron to remember him by…

“How about you tell me what you’d like to do, and I will let you know if it’s up to my standards?” Megatron retorted, leaning back again and crossing one ankle over the other. Insolent youngling. Still, Starscream could teach him patience. Megatron could be a devoted and thoughtful lover, he just needed to learn to trust and respect. The respect was mostly ingrained, from what he had seen in the arena. He just needed to persuade Megatron to drop the insolence act. 

“If that’s how you’d like to play, youngster. My plan is to teach you the patience and skill of a mech whom I can be proud of. You have many of the natural instincts of a good lover – some amount of patience, and a need to see their pleasure before your own. If you want to be worthy of me, of standing next to me and accompanying me on my travels, you will learn to conduct yourself accordingly. This is the beginning. I will not take you unless you please me. You can try and do it yourself, but I don’t think you’re going to succeed. 

Starscream paused, watching Megatron’s face closely. Understanding and resentment flickered across his faceplates, his brow furrowing with each emotion. Starscream paused for a long moment before resting his hip against the big mech’s berth, letting one of his claws trace his hip joint slowly. Megatron’s optics darkened by the moment, lust creeping in to war with his displeasure. 

“So here’s what we’re going to do tonight. I’ve seen you can fuck, but I am going to teach you how to give a proper blow job. Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’ve seen the likes of what these mecha think a blow job is, and frankly you should all be embarrassed. Slobber and choking on a spike is not a blow job. I can teach you to blow someone’s circuits just as thoroughly with your mouth as they do with their arrays. Wouldn’t you like to hold that kind of power over a mecha? So, step one – I’m going to sit on the edge of the berth, and you will kneel at my pedes. If you need a pillow to sit on, you may have it. You’ll be down there for a long time, so choose wisely. Step two, I am going to open my panel. We are going to talk about and explore the anatomy of a spike, and how to wring the most pleasure depending on the area. Then we will have a practical exam, which will consist of you sucking me until I overload on your face. Any questions?” He asked sweetly, one of his hands delving down to his array, circling his spike housing lewdly. Normally, he never would have acted so disgustingly wanton, but this was practically chaste for a Kaonian mating ritual. 

“So, you expect me to just suck you off and I get nothing in return? What kind of mech do you think I am?” Megatron retorted, uncrossing his ankles and puffing his plating as he stood. Intimidation. Interesting reaction. 

“I think that you are the type of mecha to understand the principles of delayed gratification and learning on the job. I’m sure you’ll be able to please me, I’m a fantastic teacher. Don’t you worry your bucketed helm about that.

Megatron’s optics sparked, and Starscream knew that his words had hit their intended target. Blustering and anger aside, Megatron was still hiding more than a touch of insecurity. He may be well on his way to leading an army, but when it came to the two of them, he was nervous. And trying to cover it with anger. How cute. How Kaonian. Megatron was smart enough to know that Starscream would expect something more than a quick tumble to satisfy. 

“How about this, then. If you do a good job sucking me off, and really apply yourself, I will make certain that you get your first Drill Sergeant delivered within the next orn. I have one who just needs a little shaping up – he’s been drowning his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle – but I can have him cleaned up and here very quickly if needed. Then you can start having some sort of actual military training, and I will be able to start shaping you up in return. Is that more palatable to you, dear spark?” Perhaps his tone was creeping up on too patronizing, given that Megatron looked only a few moments away from throwing a datapad at his helm. Still, he smiled sweetly and opened his thighs just a touch wider. Megatron was bound to be much more interested in his valve, and he was not above tempting his mech just a little. Spike needs were first on his list. Servicing his valve was going to be a much more in-depth lesson, and they were going to much more uninterrupted time. He was thinking that the shuttle ride from Vos to Crystal City was the perfect time and place for that lesson, but that trip was still a ways off. 

“Deal. I will service your spike, and you will begin sending me actual military mecha to train with. They will teach me, as well. I do not want them training my troops solo. I want to be involved, so he will train me first. I am a fast learner.” Megatron spoke earnestly, his optics brightening with his thoughts of grandeur. Starscream was already looking forward to the videos of Megatron being brought to his knees by an old drunk. 

“Deal, now kiss me and let’s get started.” Starscream said, pushing himself upright and holding out his hand for Megatron to shake. 

Instead of a handshake as the noble was used to, Megatron grasped his wrist in a warrior’s shake. Starscream barely remembered to grasp Megatron’s wrist as well before the larger mech yanked on him, hard. Star was much slighter and massed less than half of the taller mech and he slid forward and into the hard chestplate of the warrior. He may have squeaked. 

Before he could dwell on the sound for too long, Megatron was kissing him. This was not the kiss of an uncertain, nervous mech. Primus, this was one lesson he was not going to need to give. Megatron’s mouth was hot and wet, but not sloppy. He used his glossa sparingly, but to great effect, teasing and tempting. Starscream had rarely been kissed so thoroughly, and his knees weakened just a touch despite himself. He was supposed to be in charge. Megatron was supposed to the one who needed the lessons. He was supposed to be skittish. 

Starscream pulled away with a huff, pretending to be slightly offended. Megatron’s smirk fell away once Starscream wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Petty, certainly, but effective none the less. Uppity young thing. 

“Come, then. Let’s begin. Do you want the pillow?” Starscream asked as he turned and hopped lightly onto the berth. As a courtesy to his companion, he tossed the blankets aside and left the berth bare metal. Easier to clean. Besides, the metalmesh of the blanket was low quality and scratchy. Nothing that he wanted anywhere near his body. He held up the pillow and waved it temptingly in front of the larger mech. Megatron was still standing, trying to appear confident. He was doing a reasonably good job, despite the stress pulling at his optics. In time, he would get used to the idea of being on his knees for Starscream.

“No, I do not want the pillow.” 

“On your helm be it. Or, knees, as it were.” Starscream replied, putting the pillow behind his back as he tried to get comfortable. The berth was too large for him to lean against the wall and have his spike be anywhere near the edge of the bed, so he had to support himself using his arms behind his back. His elbows were going to ache almost as badly as Megatron’s knees tomorrow. 

Starscream waited for Megatron to sink to his knees. He did not break optic contact, and they just stared at one another for quite some time. Starscream did not rush the younger mech, they had enough time and it would do no good for him to bully the mech any more than he already had. Now it was time to be gentle, patient. 

After a few minutes of shuffling on his pedes and arguing with himself, Megatron slowly dropped to his knees. The motion was smooth, and Star was jealous. His knees did not do that smooth of motions any longer. 

Pleased at Megatron’s performance, despite the pure vitriol rolling off the mech’s field and the resentment shimmering in his optics, Starscream graced him with a smile. And with his spike. His spike had been uncomfortably swollen since Megatron had fucked that femme, and he was aching. Luckily for him, this was no where near the longest he had ever been teased. It would not affect his performance. 

“This is a mech’s spike, obviously,” Starscream said, shifting his weight to rest only on one hand. His other hand slowly grasped the base of his red and gold spike before giving it a solid pump. “I suspect that most of the mecha here have solidly colored spikes. Mine is more decorative, and I have a few secrets that I doubt you’ve come across before. But more on that later. For the moment, let’s have a little lesson, shall we?” 

Megatron’s head and optics bobbed slightly as he followed Starscream’s hand – up and down, over and over. Starscream was barely grasping his spike, hand light as air as he glided into the rhythm. He nearly shuddered. An incredibly powerful mech was on his knees for him. Exhilaration flooded his lines, making him feel like he was flying when he was solidly on land. Addictive perfection. 

“This is transfodio, known colloquially as ‘the tip’ or ‘the head’ of the spike. It is incredibly sensor rich and is designed to ease into a valve. Some are more pointed, like mine. Others are more rounded and sloped. In truly fucked up mecha, they are sharp. You can learn a lot about a mech by his spike. Is he rich or poor? Does he value looks over substance? Is he a sadist or does he value bringing his partner to pleasure? Look carefully. What does mine say to you?”

Megatron leaned forward a bit, shifting his weight. He was about as far away from Starscream’s spike as he could manage and still be within touching distance. Still, he was giving the task a good faith effort. His bright red optics were darkening, looking his spike up and down with interest. 

“You’re rich, given the colors and shine. No mecha I’ve ever met down here has such a pretty spike. It’s obviously been modded – at least a little. The ridges are nothing I’ve seen before. The tip is sloped but a little pointed. Thickness and length are about what I expect for a mech of your build. Not too vain, or at least not vain enough to give yourself a monster spike.” Megatron answered, his voice lowered by an octave. He was getting off on this, whether he wanted to or not. Starscream was, too. The drip of pre-transfluid at the end of his spike was just beginning to drip. Megatron licked his lips and Starscream nearly moaned out loud. 

“Oh, I am quite vain, but I do not need a big spike to make a mecha scream. This is all I need to get the job done. And yes, I am modded. I’ll show that in a bit. Now, moving along, this is the praesuo, or the edge. It’s where the head meets the rest of the spike. Some mecha have a distinct drop off, like I do, or some may have a much more sloped version. It depends on the mech. I’ve seen it both ways. While it may not look exciting, if you can slip the tip of your glossa into the gap, you can usually send your partner screaming through the roof. It’s tricky and takes a lot of practice, but it’s not as if the practice feels horrible. Glossa on spike will always feel amazing and there’s no wrong way to do it. But you’ll know when you find the right way.”

Starscream took a moment to pump his spike again, catching the drop of transfluid as it tried to escape onto the surface of the berth. It was distracting Megatron from looking at the rest of his spike. The gladiator had been hyperfocused on the bead, optics following it as it slowly followed the weak gravitational pull of the planet. 

“This is the scapus, the shaft of the spike. Any amount of suction here will feel amazing, and the flat of a glossa does nicely. But most of the stimulation of the shaft during a blow job will come from two sources – either your hand or your throat. Hands free blow jobs are amazing, but they take a large amount of control and skill from both parties. Deep throating is something that really only requires the mecha with the spike to be in control. The other person just needs to trust them enough to keep relaxed and venting. Gagging can be avoided if they can remain calm and vent firmly in and out of their other vents. Deep throating is my favorite, and definitely something we will be trying tonight. We will see if you can handle it.” 

Megatron’s optics flashed at the challenge, and Starscream already knew that he had won the battle if not the war. Megatron’s stubborn pride made him an easy mark for manipulation, and he would not be able to back down now. And deep throating really was one of his favorites. Star didn’t bother to mention facials – there was no need to spoil the ending or scare his companion. But Megatron was going to wear his transfluid tonight. 

“The base can also be the source of a lot of pleasure, and it’s often ignored by less skilled mecha. The housing, where your spike retracts into, has a lot of sensors right at the opening. These sensors will send signals to the processor to release the spike if something feels good. That’s why you can go from not interested to a hard spike in moments when you feel a hot valve on your housing. Instantly hard spike. Gentle fingers stroking along the surface is always a good option, but the best is vibration. Some mechs have modded their throats for vibrations – mostly pleasurebots, but I have met a few. Or you can do what the rest of us do and hum when you deep throat. With your low voice, you won’t have any issues sending your partners to ecstasy, especially ones who are not as experienced. You can blow their minds.”

Megatron leaned forward even more, and Starscream had to wonder if Megatron had never taken the time to look at his own spike in depth. Probably not, now that he thought on it for a moment. The mech had known nothing but hardship from the moment he onlined. There probably was not of leisure time for him at all, none the less for him to self-service. So, Starscream indulged him and allowed the young mech to survey his spike and housing. Besides, Megatron’s own spike was probably solidly colored and unmodded. Simplicity was fine, but his own spike was a work of art. He had half a mind to ask Megatron to pop his own panel, but that would be deviating from his plan. And thus the trust would be broken. There was always next time. Or maybe the grey mech would feel comfortable enough to unleash his spike and self-service, but Starscream was doubtful. 

Star let go of his spike, letting it bob up and down under its own weight before returning his hand behind his back and take some of his weight. His other elbow joint was already protesting, but now was when the good parts would begin. Any time now. But Megatron was still surveying the spike in front of him. At some point he had moved quite close, and Star nearly convulsed when Megatron sniffed at him delicately. Sniffed. Pulled air into his vents and paused. Starscream had experienced a lot of blow jobs, but none of his partners had ever done that. It was odd. It was almost gross. But it was so hot. Megatron looked thoughtful, rather than disgusted. He probably smelled like fresh transfluid and expensive polish. He hoped. One of Megatron’s big hands came up towards him and then paused before falling back. Starscream had not allowed him permission to touch. That was his mistake. 

“You may, of course, touch me.” 

And that was all it took for one of Megatron’s large and strong hands to reach up. Starscream couldn’t help himself, he grabbed Megatron’s hand and hauled it up a little past his hips, inspecting it for engeron. Megatron had been clean every time they had met, but he couldn’t help himself. There was no trace of anything, no mech fluid or even cleanser. Megatron’s hand was released and Starscream gave him a wry smile. He would never apologize for keeping himself safe. 

Megatron rolled his optics to the ceiling before letting his hand rest on Starscream’s thigh. He massaged there for a moment, and Starscream was confused. He had been expecting Megatron to go straight for his spike. The tension he didn’t realize he’d been holding slowly ebbed away and he leaned back into his hands, enjoying the small thigh massage. His optics drifted to the ceiling, this was nice. So relaxing and so arousing, at the same time. 

Then Megatron swallowed him down. All of him, straight to the base. 

Starscream yelled, half out of pleasure and half out of surprise. He had been expecting tiny little licks, maybe some hesitant nuzzling. Not for Megatron to deep throat him clear down the housing.  
His optics flashed down to where Megatron was now bobbing his helm in a steady rhythm. There was no excess slobber or denta. No choking, no awkward grasping at the base of his spike. Megatron was swallowing him down like an expert. 

What the pit – he had thought that Megatron was inexperienced, someone who had never given another mech a blow job – ever. Why would he have this skill set? He was obviously the most dominant mech in the arena, and Starscream had only ever seen him use his spike. He was supposed to be a spike mecha with limited experience in anything other than thrusting and cumming. 

And yet, he was already most way to his own overload. Megatron’s helm would bob down, throat relaxed but still snug and incredibly hot, before he would slide up the length and let his glossa flatten out to lick his entire shaft, before suckling the head. Every other stoke he would also lather the head with tiny licks, delving under the head to slip his glossa into the gaps quickly and easily. That he wasn’t as good at, but it was still utterly amazing. 

And all Starscream could do was watch with his mouthplates hanging open in pleasure and disbelief. When Megatron began humming, Starscream shouted, one hand becoming a fist and thumping the berth behind him. Primus, at this rate he was going to blow his load way too quickly. He was supposed to be teaching, he was supposed to be in control. Megatron was supposed to be learning to give up control, to just accept what he was given. And yet, somehow Starscream was the one learning the lesson and taking what was given to him. He couldn’t even be mad, not with how masterfully his spike was being sucked.

When Starscream felt the tightening in his belly, one of his hands flew to the back of Megatron’s helm. Megatron’s dark red optics were locked onto his own, and his large hands slid from his thighs to his just above his spike housing. He was applying a steady pressure, something Starscream wasn’t really certain of. What was he doing? 

Then Megatron stopped his motion with his nose flat to Starscream’s housing. Star almost yelled in frustration. He was THIS close to cumming, and this buffoon had stopped. The one thing you couldn’t do to a mech – and then he started swallowing. It wasn’t a slow and gentle swallow. Megatron’s throat cables pulled on his spike like a starving mech at an energon cube, the pressure and vacuum were incredible, and Starscream threw his helm back and shouted. It was a completely involuntary noise, and it was amazing. 

Megatron’s hands squeezed the area right above his housing, hard as the transfluid rushed into his spike. The flow restricted, but still he kept sucking like an industrial vacuum, and the transfluid needed out. The result was an incredibly slow and processor-blowingly intense overload. Distantly, he knew his thrusters were kicking the sides of the berth, and probably Megatron’s chest, but he couldn’t help it. This was a new kind of torture, blissful and never ending. 

Until it was over, and all Starscream could do was sink down into a puddle of the mech he used to be. Megatron pulled off his spike slowly, his glossa gently skimming down Starscream’s twitching length. He did not even try to lick off the small amount left on his tip. Thank Primus, he was so over sensitive he may have passed out had the younger mech tried that move. 

And, oh Primus, Megatron must have swallowed his load. Well, maybe swallowed was the wrong word. Given how hard he had overloaded, it was more likely that his fluid had shot straight down the mech’s throat and into his tank. No swallowing necessary. 

“This is the nasty part, brace yourself.” Megatron’s voice was rough and deep, and Starscream barely registered the words over the timbre. But when the large grey hands started to loosen around his trim waist, Starscream whined piteously. It hurt. A lot. More than he was used to, and he wanted to squirm away, but there was no energy left in his body to move. So he had to accept the pain until it faded away.

“That’s the only drawback to this method, but the overload is so good it’s worth the pain any day. You’ll feel a little funny down here for a few days – your spike and housing will be sore, but you will be just fine. Just take it easy – if you really feel bad, take a soak in an oil bath and let your spike out when you do it. The heat and the oil will help. Don’t stick anything up your spike for a while, either. Just let it heal.” Megatron spoke, his hands rubbing up and down Starscream’s belly plating in a soothing motion. Over and over, his hands not going anywhere near Starscream’s rapidly deflating spike. 

“What do you mean, in my spike?” Starscream croaked, trying to sit upright. Megatron shoved him right back down, not letting him sit up even a bit. It was for the best, he was still shaking. And his wingtips hurt. He realized that they’d been beating at the berth while he had been overloading. Primus, this mech was gifted. 

“Don’t ask, I will not teach you that until you’re much more comfortable with me being in control of you.”

Brat.


End file.
